


When All Is Said and Done

by ladydeathfaerie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Phil is a mother hen, SHIELD Daddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NIck and Phil are on a mission. Naturally things go wrong and Nick ends up getting hurt. That's when Phil goes into mother hen mode.</p>
<p>
  <i>"Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding, boss?" </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	When All Is Said and Done

**Author's Note:**

> so May 21 is SHIELD Daddies day on tumblr and my best bud is a serious shipper. and i thought maybe i'd throw my hat into the ring and write a little something for the event. this is what came of it. its short. (well, its short for me) and its actually not very smutty or dirty or violent or anything like that. which is kind of surprising. but i hope you like it anyway.

"Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding, boss?" There was an edge of anger to Phil's voice. Nick sighed. He should have known he wouldn't be able to hide the fact that he'd taken a round from Coulson. The man saw _everything_.

"We're standing in an alley in an unfriendly city in an unfriendly country with a few dozen gun toting bad guys looking for our sorry asses. Do you really think now is the time to discuss a little bit of blood loss?" 

Phil looked at him over his shoulder. He was frowning. Which meant he was not happy. Because Phil never took his eyes off the enemy. Ever. And he rarely broke away from his bland face. His gaze flicked toward the ground, then back up to Nick's face. "Then why is there a pool of blood on the ground at your feet? And why are you pale?"

"Eyes forward," Nick ordered. They were not having this discussion right now. There were more pressing matters to deal with. 

"With all due respect, boss," Phil replied without looking away. "Fuck that noise." 

Nick shot him a meaningful look. Which did nothing to phase Phil. "I should write you up for insubordination." 

Phil's eyebrow went up at that. Then he muttered something under his breath and turned to stare around the corner. Phil was worse than a mother hen when it came to injuries and Nick knew, when they were someplace safe so that neither of them had to be on the look out for any trouble, that Phil was going to give him hell over this. Which was exactly why he hadn't said anything when it had happened. He'd hoped, apparently in vain, that he'd be able to deal with it in private when they got out of this mess. 

"Can you make it to the safe house?" Phil asked, not bothering to turn back to look at him. Nick gave the question consideration. It was going to be difficult. The bullet had gone through the meat of his thigh. That meant walking would be filled with pain. And it would encourage more blood loss. He didn't actually think it would be a wise move. 

But he knew, as sure as he knew his name, that if he told Phil he couldn't make it, the other man would feel obligated to stay beside him. The last thing Nick wanted was for Phil to put his life on the line for him. That wasn't the way things worked. And Phil would. He wouldn't question it. He'd simply stay and stand guard. And then they'd both probably end up dying. "Sure. Its nothing but a graze," he told the other man.

"You're a terrible liar, boss," Phil returned, voice devoid of emotion. "But we can't stay here. We're too exposed. The street is clear for the moment, but I doubt we have a lot of time. So we're going to have to hurry. Think you can keep up?" 

"I'll do my best," Nick assured him. Phil holstered his weapon and turned back toward him, already removing his shirt. Wordlessly, Phil kneeled in the mucky alley and worked at folding the dark material into a temporary bandage. The arms were wrapped around Nick's thigh and then tied in the front to hold the pad in place. Then Phil rose to his feet and withdrew his Glock once again. 

"Follow my lead, boss," Phil told him, then started forward.

"Its like you don't even remember that I'm your superior," Nick grumbled. He heard Phil snort at that, a sound of utter disbelief. Nick shook his head and fell into step behind Phil, his own weapon in hand. He did his best to ignore the pain shooting up his leg with each step, instead concentrated on reaching the safe house. It really wasn't that far, just a few hundred yards, but it seemed much farther. 

Nick grit his teeth together and sucked it up. Pain meant he was still alive. And he wanted to keep it that way. There was far too much for him to live for. So he pushed forward, kept moving. Remained vigilant despite the desire to just stop and curl up and let the pain wash over him. Because he knew that it was bad. And he knew that if he stopped moving, he'd never get back up. So the best way to keep going forward was to keep his eye on and follow Phil. 

Not to mention he'd never live it down if he let a little thing like a bullet wound end him when he hadn't stopped when he'd lost his eye. 

By the time they reached the safe house, he felt light headed and wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and stay there. Phil ushered him through the door and, after ensuring that they hadn't been followed, pulled the door shut and locked it behind them. Nick lowered himself into a chair and took a few moments to just breathe. Try to fight back the faint touch of dizziness. Phil shot him a look, then busied himself with collecting much needed supplies. Nick let the sounds fade into the background and closed his eyes. For just a moment. 

"Open your eyes, boss. With me," Phil said. There was nothing different in the tone, and yet... Nick jerked awake to find Phil on his knees before the chair with medical supplies fanned out on the floor around him. Phil had a pair of shears in his hand and a determined look on his face. Nick sighed and nodded his head, silently giving Phil the go ahead. 

The shears were sharp and made quick work of the leg of Nick's pants and the makeshift bandage Phil had put on the wound. What followed was a flurry of action. The bullet had lodged in Nick's thigh, forcing Phil to perform quick and dirty surgery. The bullet was extracted between shots of tequila and a string of curses made in several languages. Next came cleaning and stitching. Phil was as competent doing the duties of an EMT as he was doing his own job. Nick didn't have to look to know that the stitches were neat and even. The last thing Phil did before packing up the supplies away was administer a broad spectrum antibiotic. 

"Talk to me while I make you something to eat to replace that lost iron," Phil called from the kitchen.

"What are you going to make? It isn't like there's a New York strip in the fridge or anything," Nick called back.

"I'll manage something," Phil told him. "And you'll eat it all, whether you like it or not." 

"Anything to keep you from nagging me." 

Conversation was nothing worth remembering. The house was soon filled with the tantalizing scents of cooking meat and vegetables. They didn't really talk about anything important, just talked so that Phil could make sure Nick stayed awake. Half an hour later, Phil was bringing him a bowl of chili with a slab of bread on the side. There was a glass of orange juice to wash it all down with. "You forgot the spinach," Nick grumped. 

"Hardly. There wasn't any in the crisper drawer. Eat. There's plenty of protein in that chili." 

"You're worse than a mother hen," Nick snarked. 

"I've got reason to be," Phil replied and settled on the arm of the chair. "You scared the life out of me back there, Nick. I thought I'd lost you. It isn't a feeling I enjoy." 

"Its a flesh wound." 

"Its more than a flesh wound, Nick. You were bleeding heavily. We're in hostile territory. This place is safe for a day, two at the most. I've already called in for an evac. But its going to take a little time. I don't know about my medical skills." Phil shook his head. "I had a moment where I saw my life without you. It was scary. And very boring. Don't do that to me again. No more field work for you." 

"You're going to tell me I can't go out in the field anymore?" Nick chuckled at the notion. 

"I will." Phil gave him a look. "Don't think I won't." 

"We can discuss this when we get home and I'm out of medical," Nick told him. For now, he wanted to eat Phil's chili, take some pain meds, and climb into bed. "Food. Pain reliever. Sleep. In that order." 

"You can bet your ass we'll discuss this," Phil promised. "And don't think you can get out of it by scheduling a slew of meetings. I will find a way to get you alone. And we will talk." 

Nick chuckled at the other man's bulldog attitude. Wasn't that what had prompted him to ask Phil to join S.H.I.E.L.D.? Wasn't that what had prompted Nick to ask him out that first time? He reached up and laced his fingers into Phil's, lifted the hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "We'll talk. Even if you have to tie me down to the bed." 

For the first time since their op had gone so horribly wrong, Phil gave him a genuine smile. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. There are a few things I want to try. Having you tied to the bed would be the perfect time to do so." 

"Tease." Nick's voice had dropped into a low, husky drawl.

"And you love me that way." Phil flashed a knowing grin at him, then leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. Nick untangled his hand from Phil's to draw the man in closer so that he could deepen the kiss. 

Maybe being injured wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
